


this looks bad

by spidye



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Rare Pairings, This was so cute to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidye/pseuds/spidye
Summary: Eddie accidentally breaks into Clint's apartment. Surprisingly, nobody dies.A commissioned Venom/Hawkeye crossover, with 616 Clint, based on the Fraction run.





	this looks bad

**Author's Note:**

> quick little one shot done for @diegohargreeves on twitter! this was way longer than it should have been i'm sorry omg.   
> you can follow me at [@hocosuit](https://twitter.com/hocosuit)!

_ This is awkward. _

Clint, standing in the doorway to his apartment, arms full and nose pink from the cold, stares slack-jawed and in stunned silence at his open living room window. It’s not appalling that the window is open — it’d be very like him to forget to close it. What’s  _ in _ the window is also not incredibly absurd. With one foot still outside the sill is a man, holding perfectly still. It’s obvious by his strangely balanced position that he’d been climbing through the window, but like a deer in headlights, he’s frozen. Still, not surprising. It’s not the first time someone has tried to rob Clint. Inconvenient, yes, but given how today has gone, not surprising. 

What  _ is _ shocking is the man himself. His hair is tousled and snow-dusted, his cheeks flushed from the cold, his face neatly framed by a few days’ scruff. Though a little hunched from his position, he stands taller than Clint by an inch or two, and the royal blue shirt, with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, compliments the steel grey of his eyes. 

_ Oh, no, _ Clint thinks,  _ he’s cute. I’m being robbed by a pretty robber. A heart robber.  _

Slowly, deliberately, the man lifts his foot out of the windowsill and straightens up, running a hand through his hair to brush away the snow. “Uh,” he says. “Is this not…?” 

When Clint remains in shocked silence, the robber has the audacity to bite his lower lip.

Even if his hands  _ hadn’t _ been full of such useless things as an empty coffee cup, keys, and bags of groceries, Clint’s bow is halfway across the apartment, hung on the back of his chair.

_ Should have put that by the door. _

But even if the bow had been at the door and his hands had been empty, Clint, still staring, can’t find a proper quip with which to address this very un-robber-like robber, nor the heart to chase him out of his apartment. At Clint’s feet, Lucky is pulling at the end of his leash, wagging his tail dutifully at the man.

_ Wag at the pretty robber. Yes. Good boy. _

After struggling for words for a moment more, Clint clears his throat. “Can I help you?” 

_ That was dumb. What is this, a convenience store? _  
  


Just a few minutes earlier, Eddie had been pacing outside the apartment building, in a very cold predicament.

New York is a strange place at night – much stranger than San Francisco could ever be. It’s been just three days since Eddie had made the move from California, and the shock hasn’t quite faded yet. Venom  _ insists _ on going out to explore the city every night, despite Eddie’s exhaustion after work at the Daily Bugle. Though it’d be possible for Eddie to sleep while Venom explores the city using his body, Venom isn’t entirely trustworthy with regards to the Ground Rules, and Eddie feels like that’d be a bad idea. It’s not unlike walking a dog — unless Eddie wants him to get crabby, Venom needs to stretch his legs. Tentacles. Goo. Whatever.

His apartment isn’t the nicest, but the rent is decent, and Eddie isn’t incredibly picky. The only complication is that the building is massive, the rooms look all the same. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but tonight, after discovering that he’d left his key on the kitchen counter, Eddie is stuck standing outside the apartment.

“Fourth floor,” Eddie had asked, peering up miserably at the building. The light snowfall has dusted his shoulders and hair in white, and he had given a little shiver. “Right?”

Venom’s response was scornful.  **You are not going to** **_climb_ ** **it, are you?**

“Well, no.” He lifts his shoulders suggestively. “I was kinda thinkin’  _ you’d _ climb it.” 

**No.**

“Oh, come on—”

**It’s cold.**

“That didn’t bother you an hour ago!” 

**It was not so cold an hour ago.**

And so, grumbling, Eddie had made his way up the fire escape to the fourth floor, tugging open the window to what he  _ thought _ was his room. Eddie had one leg flung over the sill when the door popped open, and now he’s standing in the middle of an apartment that definitely isn’t his, staring down a beanie-clad, pink-nosed, overly bandaged blonde and his one-eyed dog.  Said blonde blinks at Eddie, dumbstruck, before blurting, “Can I help you?”

**This is not our room.**

“Yeah, thanks, genius,” Eddie mutters, posture stiff and wary.

Clint tips his head, brows furrowing. Lucky imitates his owner’s expression with a whine. The white bandaid over Clint’s browbone makes the expression seem almost comical, but Eddie quickly realizes that he’d spoken that aloud, and lifts a hand in defense, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says, “sorry. Not talking to you.”

“Oh,” Clint says. A pause, as he imagines who Eddie must have been talking to: a man wearing all black, sitting in a white van out near the curb, muttering into a radio to  _ get the goods and go. _ It’s a very Home Alone-esque image. “You got an ear comm?” 

“An ear—” Eddie cuts himself off with a confused frown. He shakes his head. “No, I– look, this is— this isn’t my apartment.”

Clint breathes a laugh. “Do you normally rob your own apartment, man?” 

**Let’s eat him.**

“Do I— no!” 

“So you  _ are _ robbing me.”

**He looks delicious.**

Eddie’s voice pitches up. “ _No!_ ” He wags his head back and forth and pats his thigh twice, hoping Venom will obey the unspoken command this time — they’d set up the signal a while ago. It means  _ shut up _ . He pinches the bridge of his nose. Clint has since set down his groceries and thrown away his coffee cup, now staring at Eddie with a lifted brow.

“I know this looks bad, but I  _ live _ here,” Eddie finally manages. “I have an apartment on this floor, but I, uh– I, I– got locked out and I thought this was my room. Not robbing you, not a creep, not... nothin’.”

“You’re not nothing?” Clint repeats. His expression shifts to bemused, and a grin threatens the corner of his mouth. “Well, I guess that’s something.”  _ Hehe.  _ “—What room are you?”

“Four thirty four.” Eddie shifts, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. His cheeks have since stopped feeling cold, but the blush remains. His fingers tap an idle, anxious beat on his thigh. Lucky has since picked his way around Clint’s furniture to rub his head against Eddie’s thigh. Blonde beanie boy immediately forgotten, Eddie drops to a squat, cooing over Lucky and rubbing his ears, assuring him what a good boy he is. 

_ Even cuter now that he’s not trying to rob me. _

“Yeah,” Clint hums, crossing his arms with tired entertainment. “That’s the other side of the building, man.” After a moment, he gestures to the window and turns towards the counter. “Can you close that thing? It’s freezing. I mean, you gotta be cold. Y’know, since you’re— barely even wearing a shirt. You want some coffee?” 

Eddie blanches, brows lifting as he looks up from Lucky. “Coffee?”

**It is late. You will not sleep, Eddie.**

His mouth hangs slack for a moment, and he’s sharply aware of his heart skipping every other beat. He completely ignores Venom’s warning. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’d love some coffee.”

With his back turned to Eddie as he puts the coffee on, Clint mouths  _ Score! _ and wrinkles his nose in a victory grimace.  _ See? You still got some game. _

“I can show you where your room is after we warm up and watch some Dog Cops.”

“Ohh,” Eddie breathes, expression softening, “I love Dog Cops.”

Clint lights up. “Really?” 

“Who doesn’t? You know, I actually—” Eddie pauses, allowing a coy smile. “I got to be on set for a day with all the dogs.” 

The coffee pot hisses. Clint leans against the counter and gives him an incredulous look. “You’re lying.”

“No, dead serious.” Eddie grins. Lucky has since nestled into Eddie’s lap, licking incessantly at his hand. Eddie glances back down at him. “What’s his name?” 

Without thinking, Clint says, “Pizza dog,” and immediately winces. Lucky perks up with a hopeful whine, tail thumping against Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie giggles. Not just a quiet, polite laugh, but a full giggle that makes his body curl up on itself and his eyes crease at the corners. Clint stares, delighted.

_ Nope. Still a robber. Stole my heart. _

A harsh gust of wind from the window flutters at some of the papers strewn about the apartment, and Eddie mutters, “oh, right, window,” and stands to close it. When he turns back around, Clint is standing by the couch with two cups of coffee. The beanie has since been discarded, and Eddie can now properly see him — bandages dotting his face, a blonde five o’clock shadow, a cut lip and a black eye. It seems out of place, given Clint’s almost regal bone structure, but none of those things stop Clint from offering a lopsided smile.  Two purple hearing aids loop over his ears. 

**Aww. He’s cute.**

Eddie has to bite back “shut up,” and instead mirrors Clint’s smile and takes the coffee. After flicking the TV on, Clint flops down on the couch, drawing his knees up to his chest. He pats the spot next to him. When Eddie sits, the couch sinks in, and Clint unintentionally topples towards him. Eddie’s quick to lift a hand to steady Clint by the shoulder with a little “whoa, whoa!” Thankfully, Clint had lifted the mug up and prevented it from spilling, but now he’s pressed against Eddie’s side, his face just inches from the other’s.

“Easy,” Eddie says. A grin splits across his face. “You’re a lightweight.”

“I am  _ not— _ ” Clint gapes at him.  _ I don’t deserve this.  _

Playfully, Eddie slips an arm around Clint’s shoulders, careful to keep his touch light. Spotting the blush rising to Clint’s cheeks, he lowers his voice to a ridiculous imitation of sultry. “So, stranger,” Eddie says, “come here often?” 

“Do  _ you? _ ” Clint retorts.

“Nope. Never.” Eddie lifts the mug to his lips, which are oh so pink, Clint’s only staring out of habit, not because they’re kissable or anything like that, it’s just habit. Yup.

“Well,” Clint starts.  _ Oh, no _ . _ Don’t—  _ “Maybe you should.”

Eddie giggles again. He’s warm, and Clint finds himself not really wanting to extract himself from where he’s nestled against the other man. “Maybe I will,” Eddie says. After a moment of thought, Eddie pulls his arm away from Clint and holds it out in front of the two of them. Carefully, his hands form into sign: “What’s your name?” 

Clint’s face brightens. He signs back, “Clint.” 

Eddie echoes the name verbally. He smiles when he says it. “I’m Eddie.” 

“Eddie,” Clint signs. The name feels good in his hands. Aloud, “How do you know sign?” 

“I’m a reporter.” Eddie shrugs. “Picked up a lot of stuff here and there, but sign was always my favorite.”

“I like that,” Clint hums, stretching his legs out to cross them on the coffee table. His attention turns to the TV, which is playing Dog Cops softly. Lucky sits in front of it, wagging his tail. “I’m an Avenger, but it’s not as glamorous as you’d think.” He gestures vaguely to his apartment. “Obviously.”

Venom growls in apprehension, but Eddie glances over to Clint with an almost soft look in his eyes. “...That why you’re all banged up?”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Clint scoffs. “You should see me on a bad day. I mean— today was a bad, day, but you know what I mean. A _bad_ day. —Honestly, I was ready for you to kick my ass when I saw you in here. It happens all the time.”

“Lock your windows,” Eddie scolds.

“No,” Clint replies. “Definitely not gonna now that I know you might sneak in.”

“I’ll use the door if you lock your windows.” 

Clint studies him for a moment. “Is that a promise, or...?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, eyes locked on the TV. “Promise, if for nothing more than Dog Cops. I don’t have cable.”

“I can get you cable,” Clint says, looking back to their show.

“Don’t. I’m running out of excuses to show up uninvited.”

Clint opens his mouth to reply, but instead, he sits straight upright with a gasp; Eddie gestures angrily at the TV and shouts a curse; Lucky barks.

Venom was right. Eddie doesn’t sleep that night. Between the coffee and the 12 episode marathon of Dog Cops that they go through, including a tear-jerking finale, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep. He’s never been so grateful for locking himself out. 

As it turns out, some bad days happen for good reasons. 


End file.
